


Comics

by Snotkrls



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Childhood Friends, F/M, Other, sadstuck at the start
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-27
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-10 11:12:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6982093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snotkrls/pseuds/Snotkrls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You draw comics for a living and find yourself longing for an old friend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. We Meet Again

You groaned, tapping the eraser-end of your pencil on the paper before you. You had to finish just one more drawing for the commissioned comic. The characters were based off of you and your old friend, who had disappeared for about seven years. You last saw him when you were both thirteen. Now, you were twenty years old and doing commissioned art for a living, as well as working the nightly shift as a waitress in a local cafe.

You got paid fairly well for your artwork, and the comics were more pricey, especially if they disobeyed the canon of the legitimate webpage. Which, often enough, they did. So many requests flooded in to see your character kissing your friend's, and you refused to draw it. When money was brought into the equation, you obeyed, and the commissioned image was soon spread around like a plague. It scared you at first, but now you were used to being asked for fluffy comic panels of you and your friend's characters cuddling, kissing, or being hurt and comforted.

It was odd how quickly you got used to it, and how odd it was that you modeled the character of your friend based off of thirteen-year-old him. He was an albino, but you decided to hide that fact by making him a regular Caucasian male within the comics, just to make the fan-base settle a bit.

You sighed, drawing a hand through your hair and placing the pencil down. You liked to hand-draw things, then scan them onto your computer and touch them up in drawing software or photoshop.

You rose from your chair, the squeaks of the old springs alerting you of your desperate need for a new chair. You'd buy one when you feel like it, and now, you didn't really feel much of anything. See, your friend from your preteen years was your only and best friend because he had saved you from an ugly encounter with your mother a few years prior. He told his older brother about you, and then he just... _disappeared_. You didn't know what happened, and you still don't. It took you _months_ to get used to him being gone, and you remember spending hours crying at night because you were left to fend for yourself.

You couldn't even bring yourself to be angry with the guy. You didn't know his reason for leaving, and without a reason, you didn't know how to feel. So you simply shut down, and let yourself be lost in the creation of the comic. In the comic's universe, it was like he had never left you, and you'd go to his apartment every day and spend hours talking to him about anything you'd wanted to.

Sometimes, you'd have to patch him up from his strifing with his brother on the roof of the apartment complex, and you didn't know how they weren't evicted. The clatter of metal against metal could still be heard if you focused hard enough.

Stepping into your bedroom, you trudged over to your bed and slid underneath the covers, the warmth eating you up. The Texan heat was dimmed today, and being caught in a cocoon of blankets and pillows was a great help for you. Today, however, you felt especially numb, because it was his birthday. It was his birthday, and every year, you went to the park and left him a red rose the color of his eyes.

Well, _today_ as in midnight. It was currently eleven-thirty, and you had to stay up for at least another two hours. It had become a ritual to you. Get up, go to the rose bushes outside, pluck one that was perfect, and go to the tree where you two carved your friendship, deposit rose, and head back home to sleep away the pain.

Another sigh fumbled through your mouth as you heard your mother's ringtone blast through the apartment. You rose from your bed and walked over to your dresser, where your phone had lain since dawn. You never were really contacted for anything, and for that you were slightly thankful.

“Hello?” You picked it up, and you heard your mother's drunk hiccuping on the other end.

“Hon- _hic_ -ey! I met- _hic_ \- this really nice - _hic_ – boy in the – _hic –_ bar!” Your mother's words went in one ear and out the other. She always called you when she hooked up with other men, and it had gotten tiring very quickly.

“That's great. Use protection.” Your voice didn't sound like your own.

“Wait – _hic_ – honey! I'm – _hic –_ telling you this because – _hic_ – he looks like that boy – _hic_ – that you used to – _hic_ – hang out with!” Slurring and hiccups were almost like punctuation in her odd speech pattern, and it took you a moment to decipher what she meant.

“Do you need a ride home, Ma?” You were curious, and you felt your concern grow.

“ _Hic_ , yes!” You groaned and hung up, sliding your phone into the pocket of your over-sized sweatshirt and heading out of the apartment. You locked your door and headed down the steps, not bothering to take an elevator because it was _too slow_.

Speeding out to your car, you hopped in and inserted the keys into the ignition, letting the car roar to life. The headlights flashed on and off you went, pulling out of the parking lot and driving along the roads like you were mechanical. If you were being honest with yourself, after years of having do do this, you _felt_ mechanical. It seemed odd that your mother called _you_ for help of all people, but you often did come to her aid, considering that she was your mother and you still wanted to make sure you had a spare building to live in just in case your life goes further south than it has.

Arriving in the bar parking lot, you notice your mother stumbling around outside with a man that looks _so similar_ to Dave and his older brother so you pull up as close to them as you could and got out, heading to your mother with a tired look on your face.

“Ma, come on. Let me take you home and get you home safely.” You spoke to her, and reached out for her. She giggled and stumbled into your grasp.

You almost fell, but braced yourself for the impact of her drunkenness and managed to stay on your feet. You led her to your car and buckled her into the passenger seat, a frown on your face. When that was all done, you turned back to the man she was with and smiled at him.

“Thank you for not, uh, killing her or anything.” Your voice was quieter and less stern with him.

He nodded and you departed, getting into the driver's seat of your car and driving your mother to her house. You walked her in, helped her get changed, and set her in her bed with a trash bin and a glass of water nearby. Tomorrow morning you'd bring her an energy drink and a really greasy food item to help her out with her hangover and to help her get rid of some of the alcohol in her system.

You sighed, heading out of her house with bags under your eyes. Doing this constantly wore you out, and you'd be surprised if you lasted another month this way. You took your phone out and checked the time. Twelve-o-one. Cursing to yourself, you sped off towards the park, having the bouquet of false roses within your glove compartment for emergencies like this one. Arriving at the park, you noticed another car in the parking lot.

The other car was bright red, and looked extremely expensive. You weren't going to lie, it kind of intimidated you. What could a rich guy want to do with a park at midnight?

You shook your head and made your way towards the tree. Your feet moved stealthily and slowly, and you took notice of each sway of the wind and chirps of the crickets. The park's trees were barren, and the decaying grass crunched underneath your feet.

The tree was approaching your vision now, and you could see the silhouette of another person under the tree, their hand reached out and touching the bark of the tree. Your eyes widened as you frowned, stopping your path. Who was that person? Were they looking at the old marks on the tree's bark, carved with a shitty sword back in the day?

When the person looked up at you, you could see their form stiffen a bit. You continued your way to the tree, stopping when you were about five feet away. You looked at the stranger with curious eyes before setting the rose down and shutting your own eyes.

You inhaled deeply and breathed out a deep sigh, letting yourself be absorbed in the sounds and the feeling of being back in the park. Your eyes slipped open again, and the stranger was gone. What was odd was that the false rose was gone too, and you bit your lip.

“Happy birthday, Dave.” You whispered, sitting yourself down on the cold ground and letting yourself be consumed with the longing for your friend.

“Thank you.” The stranger was back, and this time they held the rose in their hands. With wide eyes, you spun around to face them, and let your mouth flounder open and closed in shock. What the hell?

“W-what?” Your reclusive trait had resurfaced, making your voice barely rise above a squeak.

“I said, 'thank you'. I didn't know you still remembered.” You bit your lip. Was this _real_? Was he real? Or were you dreaming, passed out on the park ground?

“Of course I remembered. I do this every year.” Your voice had gained a strength that you didn't notice until now. You used said strength to look back up at him. Your eyes seemed to be deceiving you. It was the gentleman from outside the bar with your mother, and you remember paying no more attention to him than a smile and a 'thank you'.

“Shit, ___, every year? Don't you get tired of it?” He was different.

He was still the albino kid that you were friends with, but he had aged, and matured, and you weren't sure if you had followed that same path of maturity that he did. He had faded scars decorating his face, hands, and anywhere where skin was showing, which wasn't in many places. You saw him extend a hand, and the motors in your head didn't connect what was going on until he spoke.

“Are you just going to leave me hanging here or are you going to accept my help?” He was still a cocky shit. But you took his hand, and felt that strong grip of his pulling you to your feet.

“T-thanks,” Your shyness has returned now that you were standing, and he practically towered over you. It was odd, but you definitely did not hate it. It was almost comforting, to know that he had grown so much.

“No problem. You're lookin' a bit spaced out there, ___.” He waved his hand in your face.

“I-it's just – are you _real_?” You couldn't help yourself from muttering the question, and you saw his eyebrows contort in confusion upon his pale forehead.

“Yeah, last time I checked. Which, really, was just now, so yeah, I don't think I'm some sort of fabricated person living in the real world, so you're safe.” You felt tears swell in your eyes, blurring your already tired vision.

“You're back.” That was all you could manage, and before you had time to stop yourself, you slammed yourself into him, hugging him and sobbing into his chest. He just stood there, not knowing how to make you feel better about the whole situation. Had he really made you this upset with his absence? He never really thought about it.

“You missed me _that_ much? You're soakin' through my clothes here, ____. I'm going to be in deep with the clothes mob for this.” You giggled at his statement, sniffling loudly and gripping him tighter.

“You were fucking _gone_ , Strider. I have a right to do this. Seven years is an awfully long time to be alone, y'know?” Your voice had dropped to a whisper at the end of your sentence.

Hesitatingly, he wrapped his arms around you, too, and you felt his chin rest on the top of your head, a soft sigh heaving from his lungs. You felt warm and safe within his embrace, and you were just glad he let you hug him. Seven years ago, this would've never happened.

“I know. I'm sorry, ___.” You just nodded, not trusting yourself to say anything more.

Moments passed between you two as you both stood there, admiring the growth and warmth of the other person. December was a bitch when it came to weather, and midnight was always the time when the cold liked to bite you on the ass and munch at your nose and fingertips.

“Let me take you home, ___. I'll drive your car back later, but you're fucking freezing.”

You both went back to your apartment, and when you got in, you gripped his sleeve to prevent him from leaving. You looked at him with tired eyes, and he nodded, sliding off his coat and shoes before locking your door and following you into your bedroom. You pulled him into a tight hug and dragged him down to the bed with you for a good ass night of reassurance and sleep.

 


	2. We Fight Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Dave start the morning well enough, and then some bad things happen revolving your comic.

The next morning, you woke up warmer and happier than usual. The figure next to you shifted slightly. You smiled contentedly, remembering the events of what happened. It was still Dave's birthday, and the fact that he had stayed true to his word and stayed with you made you happier than you'd care to admit at the moment.

With a happy sigh, you snuggled further into Dave and let your world be filled with warmth. Dave shifted again, and this time his arms wrapped tighter around you, pulling you further into his chest. This was how it usually went at sleepovers when you were both little.

You couldn't help but feel your face flush at the source of heat. Clearly, Dave had woken up and was happy with the situation as well.

“G'mornin', sleepin' beauty.” His accent was thicker due to the grogginess of sleep that loomed over you both, but you didn't mind in the slightest. It felt familiar to you, and you had missed the feeling of satisfaction so much that you welcomed it back with open arms.

“Morning, Dave.” You whispered back, tucking some of your loose hair behind your ear.

You turned so that you were facing him, and you saw that he had removed his shades and was looking at you with his gloriously colored irises. You always admired him for his bravery to continue going on, even with the bullying that he endured during school for his albinism.

“Sleep well?” He asked, and you could see the twitching of the corner of his mouth, which was desperately trying to control a smirk from forming. You just smiled, chuckling a bit.

“Mhm, but what about you?” You rolled on top of him, and rested your hands on top of each other on top of his chest, and then your chin atop your hands. He let a smile form, and then he figured he'd respond to you.

“I slept like a motherfuckin' baby, ___.” You laughed out loud for that one, and he smirked.

“Okay, David, you keep telling yourself that, even though you're twenty years old now.” You smirked back at him, looking down at him with sleep still slightly fogging your thoughts.

Then, you remembered your comic, and how you told yourself that you'd finish it at some point today. You rolled off of Dave and then got off the bed, stretching out your limbs a bit. If you were going to draw, you weren't going to let sleep overtake you... _this time_.

Heading over to your tablet and computer, you saw that you had indeed saved your progress, and silently thanked yourself. It wouldn't have been the first time that you forgot to save.

“Whatcha drawin' there, ___?” Dave was suddenly behind you, and you gasped before turning around with a glare and a hand over your heart. He was laughing a bit at both his ability to scare you easily and your ability to scare easily.

“Dave! Don't _do_ that!” You inhaled deeply, letting your hand fall to your side.

Turning back around, you sat in your chair and started to sketch out more portions of the comic page, drawing with vigorous focus that you would've never had in high school. It was really a gift for you to be so inclined in your art, and the fact that the comic was over 300 pages in wasn't much of an understatement for your talent, either.

“Is...is that me?” You nodded, letting the pen scratch and glide over the surface of the tablet as your eyes followed it on the screen.

“Well, shit, ___, you always were pretty fuckin' amazin' when it came to art, but _damn_ , I'm hot.”

You looked up from your tablet at Dave, and bit your lip, trying to restrain a smile. You shook your head at him, continuing to sketch out the rest of the page. You did so with ease, and then the harder part for you, the coloring, came up. With a deep inhale and exhale to prepare yourself for the strenuous work of coloring and shading, you started on the colors, making sure that it all lined up with the other pages of the comic as well.

About three hours later, you finished the page and uploaded it onto the website, smiling. It had been a week and a day since you last updated, and you felt a small sense of accomplishment.

“Okay, I'm done with the page! What do you say we grab something to eat?” You smiled at Dave and saw him trying to hide his face behind his shades and his hands. You looked at him questioningly, as he wasn't usually one to be this awkward, or at least, he hasn't been in a very long time.

“Dave?” He looked at you and you could see a hint of pink on his pale cheeks.

“What's the matter? Is everything okay?” You grew concerned for him, because red cheeks could mean tears, or embarrassment, or he's choking.

“_-___...” He unlocked his phone and showed you the page. _Oh._

He had been reading the comic that you made, and he was currently on page 169, or the _smut_ page. The smut page _between you two_. Oh, yikes. This wasn't what the comic was supposed to do to you or your friend.

“O-oh, you're on that page.” You decided to take the situation carefully, as you didn't know how he felt about it.

“Yeah... w-who is the chick supposed to be?” He was flustered, d'aww.

“U-Um... t-that's- that character, rather, is supposed t-to be, uh, m-me...” You whispered the last part, but he heard you anyways and his blush increased tenfold.

Then, he rose from his seat on your couch and turned to you, dropping his phone on the cushions and then grabbing your upper arms. It was weird, because he usually wasn't one for physical contact either, and _wow_ you guessed he had truly grown since the last time you had seen him. As much as you'd like to go into extreme, strenuous detail about how much you didn't know the Dave Strider before you, he didn't give you the chance because he spoke again.

“___. How long have you liked me?” He was surprisingly calm for the given situation.

“W-what?” Your voice was barely raising above a squeak.

“How long have you been drawing us fucking and making out with each other, ___?” He lost his cool, but now he just had to keep himself from flying off the handle.

“I-I've been drawing it since you left! S-seven years,” you said.

“Holy fuck, ____...” He took one hand off your arm and ran it through his hair, and you bit your lip because _god damn it_ , this wasn't how this entire conversation was supposed to go. You remember planning it out in your head at least a dozen different times, but never like this. Never had you pictured him to be _angry_ with you for keeping this from him.

Now that you were experiencing it in actuality, you felt yourself slowly losing it. Why was _he_ angry? You hadn't done anything _wrong_ , maybe slightly creepy, but not wrong.

“Dave... when you left, I lost hope that it would work out, and thus created a universe where it did. Well, not a _universe_ , more like a comic-verse...” You trailed off, watching him slowly move up to take off his shades.

“Damn it, ___-” You cut him off.

“No, Dave, damn _you_. Damn you because you left me here for _seven years_ without so much as a word from you _or_ your poor excuse for a brother! You both just fucking left me, and you _knew_ that without you there, I'd be a-fucking-lone! I remember the first day of eighth grade when you didn't show, and the kids finally thought you had offed yourself!

“I remember telling them all off, saying how if it was true that they'd be the ones to blame, and they all backed down because _I was right_! Not only that, but they made a _memorial_ for you! The damn school district had no clue what happened, either!

“This comic was my only solace to deal with what happened, Dave. My best friend, _you_ , was gone and now I barely know who you are! I still don't know what happened, and at this point, I'm not even sure I'm prepared to ask you, Dave. Yes, I still love you. However, I don't think that we're close enough for that. At least, not _now_.” You finished, tears falling down your cheeks.

“___...” He whispered, shock and sadness filling his flaming red irises. Tears pooled in his eyes, too, but you didn't want to let them fall. You couldn't.

“I'm sorry, Dave.” You whispered back, a sniffle following your words. He pulled you into a tight hug, and you wrapped your arms around him for the second time that day, but this time it was filled with way more emotion and made you want to run and hide from the world.

“I promise, ___, I'll tell you about why I had to go, one day.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiya! sorry for the long wait, i kinda lost motivation for this fic somewhere. but now i'm back, and i'm here with the pain game.   
> (thanks for all your kind words!! y'all helped me get motivation back!)


End file.
